Chapter 129: A Windfall from Heaven

What is it like to have terrible luck while playing PUBG?

If Zhihu had this question, Zhang Chu felt he could certainly share a story—and he wouldn't even need to make one up. Twice in a row, he had died at the very last step outside the play zone. In the red zone, he was hit by a shell, and before his teammates could revive him, he was hit by another. He was truly a "chosen one" of misfortune! In his final game, he disconnected just as he was about to skydive. When he reconnected, he found himself already dead—not killed by another player or crushed by a car, but forcibly kicked out of the plane, falling into the water and drowning like a fool.

"This game is absolutely cursed." Zhang Chu looked at his hands in confusion. Did he forget to wash them today? How could his luck be this bad? Perhaps he hadn't checked the old almanac; today was simply not a day for gaming.

Wei Wenlin and the others were still playing in a four-man squad, having a great time. However, they were about to start school soon. Unlike Yan-Da, many schools required military training for freshmen, so they probably wouldn't be able to play for a while.

Zhang Chu stood up from his computer desk and rolled his neck, preparing to go to the kitchen to cook for himself. All his kitchenware and tableware had been bought online and delivered; he probably wouldn't have been able to carry so much stuff back from a supermarket. Living alone was a bit troublesome; it was easy to have leftovers, and since Zhang Chu disliked eating leftover food, it would be a waste. Of course, the most important reason was that his culinary skills were poor—the system had never granted him the "Primary Cooking Mastery" skill!

Fortunately, he could eat at the canteen once school started. Rumor had it that the First Canteen at Peking University was quite good, and the Fourth Canteen, also known as the "Yan-Nan Delicacies," was affordable and delicious. There were also places like the Nongyuan Canteen; Zhang Chu had heard of the legendary "egg-wrapped dumplings" for a long time but had never been there. The campus of Peking University was so vast that if he didn't buy a bicycle, getting to class and finding food would be a challenge.

Although Zhang Chu's current income was enough to buy a decent car, it didn't quite fit his identity as a student. Besides, he had no real use for it other than going to campus, so he decided to wait and buy one later. Even though Zhang Chu was constantly in the news and trending on social media, the balance in his bank account wasn't growing as rapidly as his "Prestige Points" in the system. He was still a bit strapped for cash.

While lost in thought, he entered the kitchen. Tomato scrambled eggs, a must-have dish for beginners, was definitely on the menu. Seafood was too difficult to prepare; even though Zhang Chu loved it, he would have to go to a restaurant for that.

...

After lunch, Zhang Chu began his only serious task for the day: writing.

Currently, *Journey to the West Diaries* was still being serialized daily, but Zhou Kang had suggested that he finish the entire manuscript in one go and find a publisher. That way, he could avoid the situation with *Psychological Crime*, where the ending was cut off abruptly. After all, every loyal reader lost was a loss. By now, the four members of the Buddhist pilgrimage had gathered, along with the White Dragon Horse that refused to be ridden, and they were slowly heading toward the West.

The sound of fingers tapping on the keyboard echoed through the room. With the full text in his mind, the time needed for contemplation was greatly reduced. Without any distractions, he was fully focused, and even his "two-finger zen" typing was remarkably fast. When his phone suddenly chimed with a text notification, Zhang Chu checked what he had written—in an hour and a half, he had typed out three thousand words!

"Just in time for a break." Zhang Chu stretched his neck and used his fingerprint to unlock his phone. He was stunned to see a text message from the Industrial and Commercial Bank of China (ICBC).

"Your account ending in 2333 received an interbank transfer of 400,000 yuan on September 1st at 14:31. Balance: 621,285.25 yuan. [ICBC]"

There had been over 200,000 yuan in the account, and now it had jumped to over 600,000. This sudden influx of 400,000 yuan in cash caused Zhang Chu's assets to swell instantly. Royalties shouldn't have been paid out now, and they wouldn't be such a round number. Zhang Chu looked at the figure and realized it must be the prize money for winning the Sherlock Holmes writing competition, which should have been paid out long ago! The original prize was 500,000 yuan, but after taxes, it came to 400,000. Losing 20% to taxes was truly heart-wrenching.

Zhang Chu was a bit of a miser; seeing the numbers in his bank account climb always brought a sense of satisfaction. If he wanted to buy a house in Beijing, this amount of money still wasn't enough. Leaning back in his chair, he felt glad that he had casually complained about the poor efficiency of Warner Bros. China during a reporter's interview a couple of days ago. His book, *Sherlock Holmes*, had been published and on sale for over a month, yet the prize money still hadn't arrived. Once the reporter exposed this, the bureaucracy that Warner Bros. had been dragging out suddenly became incredibly efficient, transferring the money so quickly.

"Sigh, it's truly exhausting for a poor, single young man from the countryside to collect debts. These days, every company is afraid of bad publicity."

Zhang Chu would never admit that Warner Bros. was actually intimidated by his move of contacting three major law firms in North America. A giant like Warner Bros. had no reason to ruin its reputation over a few hundred thousand yuan. The staff member responsible for the delay had been scolded into oblivion by their superiors.

Receiving the money was good, after all. He decided to treat himself to an extra chicken leg when he went out for dinner tonight to celebrate.

...

At this moment, several film and television agencies were busy re-evaluating the potential of *Sherlock Holmes* and *Psychological Crime*. It wasn't just them—both domestic and international markets were optimistic. After this morning's copyright trade conference, no one cared about the other works; the focus was entirely on Zhang Chu and Dream Dragon Media.

Media outlets, writers, and other film companies all wanted to know which studio would land these two works and how well the adaptations would turn out. Huace Film & TV had originally thought 5 million yuan for both the film and television rights to *Psychological Crime* would be more than enough, but now it seemed far from sufficient. As for iQIYI, they were even more embarrassed; they had enthusiastically offered 1 million yuan for the web drama rights, only for no one to pay them any mind. That amount of money meant nothing to a writer who had already stirred up overseas television stations.

At Dream Dragon Media, General Manager Wu Tong took personal charge. This was the critical battle to build their reputation. Phones were ringing off the hook as he communicated and negotiated with the bosses of various film companies he knew. Meanwhile, Zhou Kang was busy collecting data on overseas copyright exports and the licensing fees for European and American writers, striving to ensure Zhang Chu received the same treatment—he couldn't be subjected to unfair treatment just because of his nationality.

Everyone was busy with these affairs. Such massive momentum also made other companies waiting on the sidelines start to harbor their own little schemes—perhaps they could get a piece of the pie too? Even the renowned director Xu Ji was chatting happily with Zhang Chu; it seemed like a work perfectly suited for adaptation, and buying it would likely be a guaranteed profit. With *Psychological Crime* having been out for only a few days and already pushing toward 100,000 copies in sales, it was clear that its market appeal was strong and its plot was incredibly novel.